The Journal of Laci Ashmiller
by Enno Vy
Summary: Five years after Terrier, Orva Ashmiller returns to her family. Her eldest daughter Laci struggles to reunite the family and wistfully admires Ersken until her little sister is kidnapped. Laci will not allow her family to be torn apart again.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The world of _Terrier_ belongs to Tamora Pierce. The Ashmiller children sort of belong to me, I guess.

**The Journal of Laci Ashmiller**

_Saturday_

_March 10, 251_

Morning

Mama is coming home today. It's been five years since the last time I saw her. Will I recognize her? Will she recognize me? I've changed so much since the last time I saw her, in the courtroom where she was sentenced to five years of labor on a work farm for striking a Dog. I was 10 years of age then. Now I'm 15. I've grown quite a bit, and I've grown my hair long. She used to pull it sometimes when she was in a rage. Mayhap I should cut it short again.

No, that won't be needed. Everything will be all right now. It will be like it was when I was little, before Mama lost her job as an herbwoman's assistant and started drinking. Everything will be just fine. We'll all be together – Papa and Mama and Miria and Daneel and me. We haven't been together for five years! There's so much to tell Mama when she gets home! There's the fire opals and the year or so we lived in Port Legann in a real mansion with servants until the money ran out and we moved back to the Lower City of Corus. We still have one of the stones – the smallest one that Papa keeps as a memento of those terrible days in the cellar. It's also the only beautiful thing we own, but we have to keep it hidden in a locked wooden chest, just in case someone gets the idea of stealing it. I'm sure Mama will love to see it. Now Papa's training as a Dog. I wonder what Mama will say of that when she hears, seeing as how it was the Dogs that chased her down and sent her away.

Or _a _Dog. Beka Cooper is 21 now, fast becoming one of the most respected, toughest Dogs in the Lower City (although I'm sure it helps that she is going with the Rogue, Rosto the Piper). I don't like her any more now than I did five years ago.

But no matter. It's all over, and soon we will be a family again.

Evening

Mama arrived in the early afternoon. We went to Jane Street Kennel to meet her. Or rather, Miria, Daneel, and I walked over and met Papa as he came out of training. He looked exhausted as he walked towards us, wiping sweat from his forehead with one grimy sleeve. A bruise was forming on one cheek. Papa nodded to us. He said only, "The wagon should be here soon."

I couldn't tell from his tone or expression if he were glad or not that Mama was coming home. A month in training, and he's already learned to hide his feelings. I can't read him as I used to. There was certainly no need to try to read Miria – she was about ready to jump up and down from excitement. I could see it in the way she clasped her hands together and snapped her head eagerly left and right, scrutinizing every wagon that approached. Daneel, though, was more uncertain. He was only 4 when Mama was taken away. I don't think he remembers he remembers her much. As I craned my neck to squint at a distant wagon, he slipped his hand into mine and looked up at me appealingly with his large brown eyes. All three of us have Mama's eyes – a deep brown that borders on black. Growing up I always longed for Papa's light blue eyes, but over the past five years our brown eyes became something to remind me of Mama 0 the only tangible thing (besides the scars, but I'd rather not think on those) she left us.

I gave Daneel's hand a squeeze. "She'll be back soon," I assured him.

"I see her!" Miria shrieked suddenly, making me jump. "Look! There she is!" She bounced up and down in delight. "Mama's back! Mama's back!" she sang as she twirled around gleefully.

I could see the Dogs in the kennel giving us sidelong looks. Like as not they all know our story. Wonderful. "Miria," I warned. "People are staring at us." She ignored me, of course. Little sisters!

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Beka Cooper come to stand in the doorway of the kennel. The old bitterness swelled up in me again. How dare she witness Mama's homecoming when she was the one who tore our family apart in the first place! I might have made some sharp comment to her, but the wagon stopped in front of the kennel just then. The Dog driving it ordered the men and women in it off and then drove around to the back. The passengers stood uncertainly in a huddle in the street, glancing about them in a dazed, disoriented sort of way that made my heart ache.

Oh, Mama. It shouldn't have come to this.

I didn't know what to say as I stared at her profile. Mama. Unconsciously, I tightened my grasp on Daneel's hand until he yelped and yanked away. The little scuffle attracted Mama's attention. She turned and looked me in the eyes for the first time in five years. Large, deep brown eyes met mine with an expression of defeat and weariness.

Miria plunged forward with a happy cry. "Mama! Mama! You're home!" She threw her arms around Mama's waist and hugged like a boa constrictor. Mama gave her a confused look, as though she weren't quite sure how to respond. Carefully she petted the top of Miria's head. Papa strode forward at this point. He stopped in front of her and they just stared at each other over Miria's head for a long moment.

"Jack," Mama whispered.

Papa took a quick step forward and wrapped his arms around her (nearly squishing Miria, who squeaked and wriggled out of the way). Mama hesitated, swallowed, and leaned her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes. "Oh, Jack," she breathed.

Papa stroked her hair and back as he does ours after a nightmare. "It's all right, Orva," he said in a soothing voice. "You're home."

I swallowed and looked down at Daneel. "Come on, Daneel. Time to see Mama."

We walked up to them quietly, not wanting to disturb their peaceful moment. "Orva," Papa said softly. "Look who else is here."

Mama opened her eyes again. She smiled when she saw us. "You've grown so much," she told us, and I wanted to cry at the pain and longing in her voice. Five years she's been away. How much time we lost!

"Let's go home," I suggested hastily to break the emotion of the moment.

Mama smiled at me. She actually smiled! "Yes, let's," she agreed. And the five of us walked back to our lodgings – all five of us together at last. I feel like the luckiest gixie in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sunday_

_March 11, 251_

Mama's so quiet now! I thought it was just the long wagon ride back that wore her out yesterday, but she hasn't said much at all this whole day. She's so different from how she used to be! She used to be busy always, bustling about the house and giving orders with each breath. Miria, wash the dishes. Laci, check on the baby. Jack, don't put your shoes there! Now she sits quietly and doesn't speak and just stares off into space.

When Papa returned from training today, I cornered him by the door and whispered, "I don't think Mama is well. She just sits there, and she doesn't say anything to us."

Papa sighed. "Give her time, Laci. The work farm is a harsh place. She needs to get used to being around us again."

I understand, I suppose. It's just disappointing that life is taking so long to return to normal.

Miria and I cooked dinner and cleared the dishes with Daneel. Then the three of us settled down at the table to do our homework. Mistress Painter, her as lost a son to the Shadow Snake, started a little school for Lower City children a few years back. She's a mage, not a very Gifted one, but she decided to do something for the little ones in honor of her boy. To keep us off the streets while our mamas and papas are busy, she used what she had earned from her potions and fortune-telling to rent a room just off the Rogue's Court. Word is that the Rogue himself gave money to Mistress Painter to buy chalkboards and books. He cares for his people that way, unlike Kayfer Deerborn before him. Rosto is a good Rogue, for all that he's in love with Beka Cooper.

But anyway, Papa started sending us to Mistress Painter when he began his Dog training so someone would watch over us. He's afeared the slavers will get us. Miria and I hated the school at first – Daneel was too little to care – but we started to make friends and then it became more fun. Miria always reminds me that I have the added advantage of seeing Ersken from time to time.

Ersken Westover is a Dog, Cooper's partner and a good friend of the Rogue, so he visits the Court sometimes when he's off duty. As our schoolroom is right by, we see him too. He is twenty-one years of age, a few inches taller than I am, with gentle blue eyes and curly brown hair. I met him when I was ten and Papa had vanished and our landlord had thrown Miria and Daneel and me into the streets with naught but the clothes we wore and a bowl to beg coins. We were starving and furious at Cooper for destroying our lives when she came strolling by with her friend Ersken. _She_ had never begged in the streets, we thought. _She_ had a job and a home and friends and could even afford to keep a pet cat! And what did we have? A wooden begging bowl that no one cared to fill and a mama who was far away and a papa who – we thought – had deserted us.

I had Daneel tied to my waist, so I couldn't do anything, but Miria snatched up a clump of scummer and flung it at Cooper. She stalked towards us, her pale blue eyes freezing me all over, but I stood my ground and met her glare. What did I owe her? Miria, who was as impetuous then as she is now, threw herself at Cooper, but Ersken grabbed her and held her while Cooper interrogated us. _She_ gave us a silver noble, but he was the one who bought us food.

Very well. To be fair, she also took us home, but probably only from guilt.

I didn't like Ersken then. How could I? He was _Cooper's_ friend. Liking him would constitute so many kinds of betrayal of Mama that I didn't even want to count them. I remembered the gentle look on his face, though, and when I saw him again through the doorway of our schoolroom, I remembered him –

"Laci!" Miria poked me. "Do you need help on your math? You've been staring at that problem for five minutes!"

"Um," I refocused on the page and saw a bunch of x's and y's. Miria and I had progressed through addition and subtraction, multiplication and division so fast that Mistress Painter had started us on something called algebra. She only had one book on it, though, so Miria and I had to do our homework together. Unfortunately for me, I'd been so busy daydreaming about Ersken that Miria had gotten ahead of me and wanted to turn the page. "Right." I quickly scribbled out the problem and boxed the answer. "Done." Miria flipped the page and we kept working.

Across the table, Daneel put the finishing touches on his writing assignment, lips silently forming the words as he wrote them.

I glanced up and saw Mama and Papa sitting together by the fireplace. He was talking to her softly, probably about his day. Her face showed no emotion. Only her eyes were fixed on his. I nudged Miria. "How long do you think she'll be like that?" I whispered.

She paused in the middle of the next problem and looked over at them, her expression troubled. "I don't know," she whispered back.

Daneel dotted his last period so emphatically that the tip of his pencil snapped off.

"Daneel!" I scolded. "I _told_ you not to do that! Pencils are expensive."

The little mumper ignored me the way he always does and clambered off his chair, his paper clutched in one hand. "Papa! Mama!" he called, trotting across the room. "Look what I wrote!" He shoved his paragraph under their noses.

Mama looked surprised but took it. Daneel bounced in excitement. "We were supposed to write about something that happened," he explained importantly. "I wrote about you coming home!"

Papa cast a worried glance at Mama. "Would you like to read it to us, Daneel?" he asked.

Daneel was only too happy to oblige. Snatching the paper back, he began, "Yesterday my mama came home. Laci, Miria, and I went to the kennel to see her. Papa was there already. Lots of Dogs were there too. Mama came in a wagon. Papa hugged her. Then we all came home."

Listening to his innocent, childish recital of the day's events, I felt a lump rise in my throat and sniffed a little. Beside me, Miria shifted and looked down. I saw a tear drip from her cheek onto her math homework. Mama was crying too, to my shock. Mama never cries! It just doesn't happen!

"What's wrong, Mama?" Daneel cried. "Mama? Don't you like it?"

Papa hugged Mama and helped her to stand. "Nothing's wrong, Daneel. Mama's just tired from the long trip. That's a fine essay you wrote." He smiled at Daneel and helped Mama into their bedchamber.

Miria, Daneel, and I packed away our schoolwork and went to bed in silence.


End file.
